If You Offered
by Slightly Sinister Sinestra
Summary: Probably AU. Snape and Harry have a moment of understanding. Was a oneshot. Not anymore. Read and see.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, this is purely out of the blue. Harry/Snape ... not so much friendship as a moment of understanding. I've no idea _where_ in the timeline this would go, if it goes at all. AU, probably. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclimer: I don't own the Harry Potter franchise. If I did, I'd be a lot richer.

If You Offered

"Leave me alone! Just GO AWAY! Go away!" Harry cried, and ran, leaving Ron to wonder what the hell he'd done wrong this time. The bewildered Weasley watched as Harry ran out by the lake, gradually disappearing from view behind a group of trees. Living in a house full of people, Ron knew what it was to want some alone-time, so reluctantly he decided to leave his friend be for now, and let him get whatever was bugging him out of his system. Shaking his head at a concerned Hermione, he turned back inside, hoping that whatever had been wrong with Harry for the past couple of weeks would pass soon. He missed his friend.

It was only when dinner came and went with no sign that they really began to worry about the missing Gryffindor. By nine o' clock, they were frantic. No-one had seen hide nor hair of Harry since he ran off. Ron was beside himself, cursing his stupidity in letting him go. Finally he and Hermione had to report Harry's absence. Ron ran for McGonagal, while Hermione went straight to Dumbledore. Before long, the entire staff and half of Gryffindor house were out searching for Harry, looking apprehensively out at the growing gloom. It was not a night for anyone, let alone the Boy-Who-Lived, to be out alone.

Oblivious to the worry and panic he was causing, Harry wandered the Forbidden Forest alone, unfazed by the approach of darkness. His tears had long since abated, leaving him hollow-cheeked and dull-eyed. His first mad dash for the safety and cover of the trees had torn his robes and scratched his face and hands, but he ignored this, too lost in his melancholy musings to really notice the pain. Besides, it was nothing much compared to what he had known in the past. He was vaguely aware that he wasn't supposed to be out here at all, let alone at night, but he was so fed up of doing what he was commanded that it made little difference. He wandered in a daze, thinking only that if something _did_ kill him, then Dumbledore and everyone else would be sorry to lose their 'chosen one'. The thought made him spit.

"Careful, Mr Potter. Spit on someone else, if you please," came a silky voice from the shadows. Harry stopped, but didn't startle or run. He looked at the dim, looming figure of Snape without interest, eyebrow quirked in a mildly annoyed expression that would have done the man himself proud.

"Which one sent you after me?" He asked bluntly. "Dumbledore or Voldemort?" This time the raised eyebrow was Snape's. The man was silent for a few moments, merely studying the boy in front of him. Finally he spoke.

"Would it really matter to you which it was? You don't really care either way, do you?" Harry shook his head, and Snape nodded, sighing suddenly. "Well. I was waiting for this. Walk with me, Potter." Harry almost balked, then reasoned that there was little point. He followed his potions master further into the gloaming, vaguely surprised that they weren't headed back towards the school. Well. Guess that answered his question. He wondered how Riddle was doing these days. Probably better than he was, all things considered. Maybe the man would be nice enough to kill him quickly.

"Potter? Mind where you're going, please. You might not care who or what you bump into, but I do. That happens to be a fairly sizable crevasse you almost threw us into." Harry blinked, taking in his surroundings for the first time in about fifteen minutes. Snape stood before him, arms crossed, face almost glowing in the moonlight, it was so pale. They stood in a clearing, surrounded on three sides by seemingly impenetrable undergrowth, and a yawning crack in the ground on the fourth. Two more steps, and he would have walked into Snape and pushed them both over the edge. He glanced up at his teacher's stern face. Snape stared back impassively, showing no sign of anger or reproach. Strange, that. Even his voice hadn't held its usual note of derision. Harry looked away again, wondering where they were, and why. He supposed he should be concerned about what the other intended, but could only work up a mild curiousity.

"Sit, Potter," Snape commanded brusquely, gesturing towards a fallen tree to one side of the clearing. Harry complied, rather glad for the rest. Snape sat beside him, on the only part of the truck that would allow a comfortable seat. They sat in silence for a long time, both seemimgly just thinking. Harry glanced sideways at the older man from time to time, wondering about him. Wondering about this situation they found themselves in, sitting side by side on a rotting treetrunk in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, almost companionably. It was rather nice, actually. Peaceful.

"I used to come here, you know," Snape began softly. Harry listened. "I found it after running away from your father in my second year. No-one missed me until the next morning, and by then I'd returned. No-one knows of this place, save the centaurs. They come here occasionally. It's not like that with you. Half the school is searching for you. And Dumbledore sent me, by the way. Not to the forest. I thought of that on my own. But he sent me to look for you."

"He wants his hero back," Harry said indifferently. "Not me. The Boy-Who-Lived, not Harry." Snape didn't deny it, and this intruiged Harry. He listened, wanting to hear what his teacher had to say, for perhaps the first time in his life.

"Perhaps," Snape said equally. "He does have a certain caring for Harry too. But perhaps it is really his hero he wants returned. Does it bother you?"

Harry shook his head. Nothing much bothered him anymore. Nothing mattered that much anymore. Snape nodded.

"You don't intend to return. I can see that much. Do you know where you'll go? Or doesn't it matter? It probably doesn't. Everywhere's pretty much the same, after all. Everywhere you could go, people will look at you the same way. People will treat you the same way. No-one really cares for the person behind the persona, do they? Not that it matters all that much anyway. Not anymore."

"Are you in my head, sir?" Harry asked in mild surprise. That was incredibly close to what he felt and thought. But Snape shook his head, and for a wonder Harry believed him. But then how could Snape know these things?

"That was more polite than usual, Mr Potter," Snape smiled slightly. Harry blushed. "You don't like me, I take it," Snape continued. "You needn't answer that. I would incredible surprised if you did, considering how I've gone out of my way to make life miserable for you. You react to what you're given, Mr Potter. Hate to hate, friendship to friendship, respect to respect. Challenge to challenge. I challenge you, and you fight back. Isn't it wonderful? Quite the little game of oneupmanship we've had. I've rather enjoyed it, myself. I don't suppose you have though. I've had more practice, you see, so I win that much more often. You're quite a talented amateur, though." He turned to smirk at Harry, and for some reason Harry felt proud at this back-handed compliment.

"You've been hurt." This came out of the blue, and Harry reacted instinctively, moving to deny and then leave. Snape forestalled him. "I don't know or care who or why. Maybe it's everyone. Maybe you're simply tired of being a figurehead, expected to do certain things, act a certain way, be friends with certain people. Maybe you just want to be allowed to be yourself, even for a few short moments. Or maybe it's worse. Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe no matter where you go or who you speak to, there's no reprieve. Maybe you can't stand one more condescending tone. Maybe you'll explode if you hear one more person direct your life and say it's 'all for your own good'. Maybe you wish that instead of always telling you what you have to do and expecting you to get on with it, someone would just _help_ you. But no-one ever does. Am I close?"

Harry could only stare in wonder. That wasn't close. That was _it_! That was exactly how he felt. But how could Snape, of all people, understand him like that?

"How do I know? I am a spy, Harry." Harry jerked at the use of his given name. Snape ignored this. "I survive by reading people. But here, with you, it's deeper than that. I'm not in your head, Harry. You're in mine."

For the first time, Snape turned to face him fully. There was a look of indescribable sadness in the older man's face. Harry stared, swallowing. "You echo me, Harry. You echo me too strongly. I've never been comfortable around you, because it's like looking in a mirror. You thought I couldn't stand you because I saw your father in you. I don't. I see me, and that is a thousand times worse. Mine is not a fate I would wish on anyone, to be torn this way and that, to be forced to fight a battle that is none of your choosing, because there is no-one else. I became a spy when I was sixteen. You became the chosen one when you were eleven. Neither of us has any choice, and both of us would do anything to escape. But we can't. We can't, Harry. Because like it or not, there _is _no-one else. We are each alone."

Harry swallowed back tears. No-one had ever said it out before. Always, there had been some attempt to cushion him, to comfort him with false promises of support. He hated that. It was all lies. He knew, had always known, deep down, that he was alone, like this man said. There was no-one else. But there _should_ be. There should be someone to help. They couldn't have meant to hand the fate of their world to _him_ alone. Could they?

"They ... No-one would help, would they? No-one who could really _do_ something? They say they want to, but no-one does anything. No-one wants to really try."

Snape looked sadly at him. "If someone offered their help, would you really believe them?" Harry bowed his head. He wouldn't. No longer, anyway. Once, he'd have taken them at their word, grateful for their support. Now, he knew better. 'Support' just meant someone else with expectations of him. 'Support' just meant more responsibilities that he didn't need, and could no longer support. But ...

"Maybe ... Maybe I'd believe one person. Just one." Snape raised that eyebrow, urging him on. "Maybe I'd believe the only person who's never lied to me. Maybe I'd believe the only one who's never given me false praise or encouragement, the only person who treats me like a normal recalcitrant student. Maybe ... Maybe I'd believe you, sir. If you offered." He trailed off, dipping his head so he wouldn't have to see the refusal on the other's face. He jumped slightly, then, when a hand landed gently on his shoulder.

"Maybe ..." Snape said softly. "Maybe I'd believe you too. If you offered."

Harry smiled. A deal. Something he could offer someone else, in return for something he needed. Something where they would both benefit, where they could both feel helped. He'd like that. He really would.

"Maybe that could work," he replied softly, taking the offered hand in his own. "Maybe two can succeed, where one would fail. Maybe we can try it, sir?"

"Maybe we can, Harry. Maybe we can."

They returned the next morning, to find they had been missed. The wizarding world wanted its spy and its hero back. They complied, each knowing that for the first time, neither was alone. There was, finally, someone else. It was enough, for both of them.

_Fin._

Well? Rather random, but anyway. R&R?


	2. Chapter 2

Guess I should continue this. Seems kinda popular. And it's sorta fun to write. So here's chapter 2. Enjoy!

Chapter 2 - First Offering

Harry went back to his dorm. Madame Pomfrey had given him the day off after the Professor had brought him back to the school. He expected Dumbledore to come to talk to him soon enough, whenever he got done with interrogating Snape. But Harry knew that Snape wouldn't tell the old man what he wanted. Dumbledore would just have to ask him himself. Until then, Harry simply wanted to rest.

A hesitant knock on the door put paid to that wish, for a moment anyway. Ron put his head cautiously round the door. "Harry, mate? You alright? What happened? Did Snape do anything to you? You hurt? Did ..."

Hermione cut him off, putting her own head round his to look at Harry too. "Leave off a minute, will you Ron. Give him a moment to breathe, eh?" She stepped in, shoving Ron ahead of her. "Sorry about that, Harry. But seriously, are you okay?" She looked at him earnestly. Harry sighed.

"I'm fine. I just ... needed some time alone. _Completely_ alone. I ... I had to escape, for a little while. And no, Snape didn't 'do anything'. He just brought me back. That's all." He didn't feel like talking about his truce with the older man just yet. It was still too new to _him_, and he had no idea how his friends would take it. The idea of Harry Potter having a decent conversation with the greasy git of Hogwarts was frankly ludricious. If it hadn't been him, _he _wouldn't have believed it.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, concern obvious. Harry wished she wouldn't do that. There was very little she could do to help him, with anything, and he wished she wouldn't worry so much. It didn't help either of them. It was his job to protect her, so she and Ron could be happy, not the other way round. So he had to calm her down.

"Hermione, really, I'm fine," he smiled. "I just need to rest a bit, and I'll be back to normal. I promise. Okay?" And he would be back to normal. On the outside, anyway. He was good at hiding his feelings, mostly. He just had these little short-circuits from time to time. Maybe, now that he had an ally, they wouldn't happen so often. It was ... comforting to know that at least one person actually understood.

His friends nodded. "We'll just leave you to it then, mate," Ron grinned galantly. It didn't disguise his worry, but Harry let it go. They left him alone then, Hermione muttering about not being allowed to stay long in the boys' dorms anyway. Harry sighed, and lay down. Just a short nap, that was all he asked. Just a short ...

"Harry, my boy? Do you have a moment?" Harry groaned. Just two minutes more, and he would have been asleep. Just another couple of minutes, and he could have safely ignored this interuption. No hope for it now. He rolled out of bed, grumbling in the privacy of his own thoughts.

"Yes, sir. How can I help you, sir?"

Dumbledore came in, smiling gently, that annoying everpresent twinkle in his eye. "Now, Harry, no need to stand on ceremony. I was just concerned. You gave us all quite a scare, you know. Severus has just been telling me how he found you in the Forbidden Forest. I'm sure you realise the danger you could have put yourself in. What happened, my boy?" He sat down on the end of Harry's bed, and simply looked at him.

Harry sighed. "Sir, I'm sorry. I didn't think. I just had to get away for a few hours. I _really_ had to get away. I'm sorry for worrying everyone. I just ... needed time." he glanced sideways to see how this was going down. Dumbledore was twinkling as usual.

"I know, Harry. I can't blame you for feeling pressurised. I know how much what you have to do weighs on you. Believe me, my boy, I know. I only wish you could have chosen some safer way to relieve it. You know the Order and myself are always there for you to talk to, don't you?" Harry nodded. Oh yes. There to talk, and nothing else. He stayed silent. After a few moments, Dumbledore squeezed his hand, and left.

Finally! Time to sleep.

"Mr Potter?"

"NO! No I don't have a moment! Yes I'm fine! I only want to GET SOME SLEEP! GO AWAY!" He roared. Whoever it was could damn well bugger off!

"Kindly do not take that tone with me, Mr Potter," Snape growled silkily. "Or I will be forced to take points. You can get your much needed beauty sleep later. Come with me." Harry groaned. "_Now_, if you please." Grumbling, this time out loud, he followed the other man.

Snape led him out through the dorm. Harry saw no-one else. He supposed there must be a class on. He wondered why Snape didn't have one. Then again, maybe he had the day off too. Harry put it out of his head as he concentrated on following the other man. Snape was leading him on ways he didn't know. Unfamiliar passages. Harry remembered seeing them on the Marauders Map, but had never travelled them. Snape walked ahead with utter confidence.

"Um, sir? Where are we going?"

Snape turned. "Somewhere safe. The safest place I know. Trust me. That may be a tall order, for the son of James Potter, but it will be necessary." Harry blinked, then nodded. Whatever.

Twenty minutes later, he was glad of it. They stood in a vaulted room, filled to the brim with books. A bibliophile's dream. But that wasn't what impressed Harry. No. What caught his interest was the security on the room. The wards Snape had woven his way through were the most complex and frankly impressive Harry had ever seen. He turned on the spot, staring in amazement, before turning back to Snape, who was watching him with a strange smile on his face.

"Where are we, sir?"

"The only completely safe place I have ever known. You thought your father and his friends knew Hogwarts? They never even came close to this place. I was quite a talented explorer myself, what with hiding form them all the time. This is Ravenclaw's personal study. Her sanctuary from the other Founders. Only someone who either knows of its location already, or has the same aims as Rowena herself can find it, and only those knowledgable enough to translate her wards may enter." He turned to catch Harry's gaze, and stare steadily. "Not even Albus can enter here."

Harry stared. Impossible! No-one could be as knowledgable as the Headmaster, about magic anyway. Harry knew how little Dumbledore knew of people and feelings. But how could Snape say that _he_ could get in, while Dumbledore, supposedly the most powerful wizard of their times, could not.

"These wards are more complex than mere magic, Harry. They are woven in part with Leglimancy. With mind-magic. Only someone with the correct intentions, the right way of thinking, and the thirst for understanding that characterised Ravenclaw can enter. The Headmaster, for all his talents, hasn't the same desire to learn, the same need for a place of solitude. He actually _likes_ being around the dunderheads! You and I, we need this place of privacy. We need to learn, so we can survive. I entered with an understanding like Rowena's and a deviousness like Salazar's, her closest companion and mental sparring partner. The combination of the two, and the patience to negotiate the wards, allowed me to enter. And now, you can too."

Harry shook his head. "I couldn't even begin to understand what you were doing, sir. I didn't even _see_ half of it!"

"Rowena left a protocol. The one who translates the wards can have them allow entry to _one_ other. Rowena used it sometimes to let Salazar in. Normally I simply walk in here. The reason I was fiddling with the wards was to let them know that I acknowledged you as that person. Now you may come here any time, without me, but only alone. It is now our secret."

Harry felt striken. Of all the people Snape could choose to grant this secret to, he chose _him_? Alright, they'd had a certain ... trust ... last night. They'd finally actually seen each other for what they were. But this was far too great a gesture of trust, far too soon. Snape _couldn't_ trust him that much! Not so soon.

"Sir ... It's too much. You can't offer me this! This is ... this is your sanctuary! You can't just offer it to me!"

Snape shook his head, smiling. "I thought you said you'd take my help, if I offered? I'm offering. Freely. I made this choice, and the wards accept you now. It is already given. And anyway, I'd rather find you here the next time you need time alone, than have to risk my cover searching for the Boy-Who-Lived in the Forbidden Forest. It's slightly safer, for both of us, don't you think?"

Harry swallowed. It was such a gift ... This was the greatest illustration of the other man's seriousness about their truce, his trust, his willingness to offer something _real_ to Harry. It struck him harder than he could have thought. After the Dursleys, after his years of fighting for everyone else with nothing for himself, after so many people failing to see what he needed ... Harry felt tears welling, and brushed them away hurriedly. He didn't want to seem weak.

"It's also the only place I ever let myself cry properly," Snape whispered softly. "Nowhere else was safe. All those prying eyes to see your weakness. I wish I could thank Ravenclaw somehow. She gave me my sanity, really."

Harry gave a watery smile. "You think you're sane?" Snape laughed, a long, low chuckle. Harry'd never heard him laugh before. It was ... pleasant.

"Thank you, sir," he whispered.

"In here, Harry, it's Severus. But _only_ in here, understand! I ever hear you use that name outside, and Gryffindor will be in the minus for the next decade!"

This time, Harry joined in the laughter.

Well? I thought this would be a oneshot, but I think I can continue it. What do you think? Or should I stop now, while I'm ahead? R&R and tell me. Please?


	3. Chapter 3

So. What shall I say? I'm very bad with updates, partially because I have around 8 ongoing stories up. Bad planning. Oh well. Enjoy.

Chapter 3: Private Matters

Ron and Hermione were waiting when he returned from the hidden library. They were obviously concerned, but tactfully declined to comment on his absence. They simply enfolded him in a moment's silent company, then moved away and began working. Ron had a lot to catch up on. Harry did too, but seeing as how the war was going to kill him, he couldn't work up the strength to care. He was dog-tired, unrelieved by the nap he'd taken in Ravenclaw's study. He went back to his dorm, and collapsed, insensible.

He woke late the next day. Very late. One o' clock in the afternoon. And it wasn't Ron who woke him, as it usually would have been. It was the Headmaster.

"Harry, my boy? Are you there?" His voice rumbled through Gryffindor tower. Blinking, Harry struggled to find its source. "Harry, if you're hearing me, come to the fire." Oh. Right. The fire. Firecall. Harry wasn't really awake just yet.

"Sir?" he asked, stumbling down to the commonroom. At least he was dressed, though after having been slept in, the robes weren't the freshest. He didn't even want to think what his hair was like. "Sir, what is it?"

"Harry, you must come to Grimmauld Place immediately! Step through the fire! The Floo is only open temporarily, so please hurry!"

Without bothering to hear the rest, Harry moved to the fire. Dumbledore retreated to allow him room to pass, and Harry more or less fell through onto the living room floor of Order HQ. Shaking his head to clear the soot from his hair, and the fuzz from his thoughts, he stood up. Dumbledore moved to his side immediately, grabbing hold of his arm and holding him up while they moved into the kitchen, where most of the Order was gathered in a frantic crowd around a lone figure. Snape.

All confusion fled in an instant, and Harry was in the midst of them before Dumbledore even realised he'd moved. He bulled his way through to stand in front of his wayward teacher, fierce interrogation in his face. "What the hell happened?"

The babble stopped as if cut off with a knife. Mad Eye stepped forward. "We were just getting the snake's report on his summoning last night, Mr Potter. He claims Voldemort called him on a private matter, and that it's none of the Order's business. He's shut up like a clam, as you can see." The Auror stopped momentarily to glare ominously at the spy, which Snape responded likewise to, with considerable enthusiasm. "We were wondering if you had any insight into what he's not saying, through your ... connection ... to the Dark Lord. Mr Potter?"

Harry ignored them, staring straight at Snape. "Private matter, sir? Would that mean what I think it does?" Alastor growled, but both ignored him.

"I don't know, Mr Potter. I wasn't aware you actually _had_ thoughts. Given your penchant for reckless action, I assumed actually _thinking_ was not something you did on a regular basis," Snape sneered. Harry watched the sweat bead on his face with strain.

"It's never wise to assume anything, sir. You told me that. How bad, sir?"

"What _are_ you talking about, Mr Potter?"

"I'm talking about your injuries. How badly did he punish you for not taking the opportunity to kill me in the Forbidden Forest?" Merlin, could nobody else _see_ the man was in pain? He looked about ready to collapse on the spot! And they thought _now_ was a good time to harrass him?

Snape stared at him in silence for a moment. "Not everything centers around you, Mr Potter. But Merlin forbid you should actually _realise_ that. Typical of you to think that a private matter between myself and Voldemort should revolve around you. Really!"

Harry was undetered. "So ... It wasn't, then? Sir?" And he raised his own eyebrow in such an exact imitation of the Professor's expression that whatever Snape had been about to snarl died in his throat. For a long stretch, they simply watched each other, each daring the other to back down. The Order grew silent around them.

It was Snape who lowered his eyes first, something that shook Harry severely. He wouldn't back down unless he was badly hurt, or exhausted. "I see Granger may finally be rubbing off on you, Potter. Perceptive, aren't we?" Severus growled wearily. "It is nothing I can't handle. A minor demonstration of displeasure, nothing more. It will pass soon."

Harry snorted. "You're a champion liar, sir. Guess that's why he hasn't killed you. You look about ready to keel over. Cruciatus? Don't answer that. I can see it. Been there, done that. Looks bad enough. Your knees are shaking." Snape straightened furiously, mastering the tremors in a burst of angry will. His brows drew down in rage.

"My knees are none of your business, Mr Potter! Kindly take your sympathies, and your roving eyes, elsewhere! I'm no freakshow for you to stare at! A private matter means just that. _Private_. It really has _nothing_ to do with you, Gryffindor! Now get out of my way!" He tried to stride away, but Moody got in his way, and Molly, ready to berate him for yelling at Harry. He wheeled away from them, turning to escape, and his weakened knees gave out. He started to crumble.

Harry murmured a rapid stiffening charm, straightening the wayward limbs before the man toppled, or even swayed much. Nobody noticed the narrowly averted collapse, much to Snape's obvious relief. Tall and foreboding as ever, the potions master towered over his rescuer, glaring. Harry glared right back. It was that or smirk, and the latter probably wasn't a safe option right then.

"I will speak to you later, _Mr Potter_," Severus hissed, before turning his formidable glower on the Headmaster. "_If_ you are satisfied, Albus, I should like to return to my quarters sometime before the next millennium!" Albus nodded hurriedly. "Thank you!" Was all his spy snarled as he swept out.

Harry waited a tactful moment, then drew Dumbledore's attention back to himself. "Sir? May I return too? If you've gotten what you need?"

Dumbledore started. "Oh. Of course, my boy. You go ahead. You go."

Harry didn't even wait for the distracted man to finish. He slipped through the Floo almost on the heels of his Professor, landing behind him on a deep blue carpet. Shaking himself again, he realised that he'd followed Snape to his private quarters, just before the Floo closed behind them.

Snape staggered, and crumpled forward onto his much-abused knees. Panting, he turned to face Harry.

"Well, fancy seeing you here, Mr Potter. Do help yourself to some tea. I'll just ... collapse, if you don't mind." And he did, slipping onto his side while his mind went off to la-la-land. Harry was at his side in an instant.

"Dammit, sir! Why do you have to be so bloody stubborn! Letting them badger you, when it's this bad! Shit! Where do you keep healing potions around here? You have to have them, knowing you. But you probably have much more nasty stuff too, and I'm not going to be responsible for poisoning you with your own stock!" He paused in his tirade. "Though that would have a certain poetic justice about it."

"Glad .. to see .. you care, Mr Potter," Severus panted, voice muffled by the carpet. Harry hurriedly pulled the man's head up off the floor, and into his lap. It was the only elevated place handy. "And I'm proud .. to see your .. Slytherin side showing. You'd .. have made a good .. addition to our house. Bugger. Not so .. healthy as I .. thought. Eh, Harry?"

Harry snorted desperately. "You think? I've seen healthier corpses!" Which was sadly the truth. At least Avada'ed people looked peaceful. Severus looked like he was literally forcing himself to keep breathing. "If this is minor, I'd hate to see a major punishment!"

Snape was silent for a while, and Harry thought he'd said something wrong. Then the spy's onyx eyes met his. "I hope you never have to, Harry," he said softy. "But for us, such hopes are a wasted exercise, are they not? Don't worry. I've handled far worse before, and undoubtedly will again. A couple of bouts of the Torture Curse are nothing much, anymore."

"How much is a 'couple of bouts'?" Harry asked, biting his lip. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know. Severus shrugged, a difficult thing to accomplish lying down.

"Not more than thrice. Only about two minutes each. My nerves are just a bit shook, over the years, is all. My knees," and here he smiled mockingly, "aren't quite what they used to be. Guess I'm getting old."

"Yeah. You look it," Harry joked, still biting his lower lip. "You got a bed here somewhere, sir? Only I think you probably should lie down."

Severus shook his head. "I sleep in the chair," he murmured, gesturing towards a healthy sized armchair that looked like it could hold Grawp comfortably. "Don't ask," he admonished. Harry shrugged. He'd no intention of prying. Contrary to popular belief, he did have some respect for other's secrets. He simply charmed the supine man over to the chair, and laid him in it. Then he settled himself on the thick rug at its foot.

"I'm staying," he stated, in a tone that brooked no arguement. Snape shrugged again, and slipped away. It was the most sudden, and curiously peaceful, slide into sleep Harry had ever seen. Sighing, he made himself comfy. It was going to be a _long _afternoon.

Well? Thought I'd liven things up a bit. How're we doing so far, Ladies & Gents? Leave a note, please, and tell me.


	4. Chapter 4

I have so many other stories I should update first, but this one just pushed forward. They do that. This chapter wanted to be written. So enjoy!

Chapter 4: Waking

"Harry? Mr Potter? _Harry?_"

The voice persisted, pulling him out of his much-needed rest back into the waking realm. He came reluctantly. He'd slept more in the last two days than in the past month, and his body just didn't want to let it go while it had it. But now that he was halfway to waking, the uncomfortable twist in his back, and the sharp object pressing into his cheek, badgered him fully awake.

Groaning, he raised his head, blinking blearily in the dusky light. It was nightfall. He'd dozed off and slept until evening? Had he really been that tired? His back ached from twisting as he fell sideways, to rest sprawled across someone's knees. Oh. Ooops.

"So. You're finally awake, Mr Potter. Nice of you to join us in the world of the living. Would you mind getting off me now?" Severus sounded amused. Luckily. Harry'd been rather expecting something a bit more violent, like getting kicked off the man. He'd mellowed quite a bit, in just two days. At least when no-one else was around. Who'd have thought?

"Sorry about that sir," Harry murmured hurriedly, pulling his aching body into rough alignment against the base of the chair. Sleeping bent around a chair and a man's legs was not good for you, that was for sure.

"Sir? This looks private to me, Harry. Is Severus not good enough for you?" Severus asked, with characteristic raised eyebrow. Harry dipped his head.

"Sorry. But you called _me_ Mr Potter. So you did it first."

"Hmpf. I suppose I did. Forgive me for being unused to waking up with a sixteen-year-old drapped over me. It threw me off my game just a bit. _So_ sorry, Mr Potter."

"Alright," Harry laughed. "Point made. Sorry, Severus. I just ... fell asleep. I've been sort of tired lately, and I figured you weren't going anywhere for a while. So ... neither did I. Not a wise move, as it turned out. My back is _killing_ me!"

Severus laughed, a real belly laugh that shook his thin frame. Harry blinked in shock and consternation. Gasping slightly, Severus apologised. "Sorry Harry. But you sound even older that I am. 'My back hurts'? Really! You're the teenager. You're not supposed to complain of back aches. Next you'll tell me you've got arthritis."

"Sir? Severus? Are you alright? This isn't like you." Yeah. Professor Snape, greasy git of Hogwarts, did not sit back and laugh at a lame comment from a student. Especially Harry Potter. Neither did the Order's spy.

Severus was watching him with a faint, knowing smile. "_Which_ me, Harry? Which me isn't it like? The professor? The spy?"

"But ... Even the Severus from that memory, with my Dad, wasn't like this. He wasn't so ... relaxed, I guess. No you, that I've ever seen, has been like this. What's going on, Severus? Who are you?" _And why do I care so much? I haven't cared about anything at all recently. Why him, of all people?_

Severus leant forward, propping his chin in his hands as he smiled down at Harry. "I'm me, Harry. The real me. The one I hid from everyone else in the entire world. I'm the me who laughs, who cries, who has feelings besides anger and hate and jealousy. I'm the Severus Snape who existed before the marauders, before the werewolf, before Voldemort, before Dumbledore, before the Order, before the Professor. No-one has seen this me before. No-one still living. Don't you feel lucky?"

Harry was momentarily speechless. "But ... but ... But why _me_? You hated me. _Every _you hated me. Of all the people you could have chosen ..."

"And who do you think I would choose, Harry? Who do you think I would trust? Dumbledore, who threw me back to the Death Eaters as his spy? The Order? Who is there, Harry? Who can I trust?" The smile became sad. "Personally, I'd rather trust the one kid who never backed down from me, never gave up his suspicions despite numerous people telling him to back down, and didn't spit on me when I offered help. The one person who looked at me based on his personal experiences of me, not on other people's interpretations. I'd rather trust _you_, Harry."

Harry shook his head desperately. "We said we'd help each other, but so far you just give me stuff, and don't ask anything in return. You can't keep doing this. First your sanctuary, now ... _this_! Why me, why now, all of a sudden? What happened?"

"You woke up," Severus replied simply. "You saw. It was enough. And you have given me something. Do you know what it's like to hide, from _everyone_? To have no-one who knows, or understands how you feel? You do. Now you have me. And, more importantly, I have you. It is ... such a relief. I don't mind you knowing of the Study. We're probably both going to die. So you can have my secrets. And I can know that someone I trust has them. And me. Until the end. It's enough, for me."

Harry bit his lip, then took the other man's hand. "And for me, Severus. It's more than anyone else has offered. It's enough. For both of us."

Severus smiled, gripping his hand firmly. Then, shrugging exasperatedly, he pulled Harry up into a warm hug. Harry stiffened in shock, then relaxed. "Thank you, Harry," Severus murmured into his hair. "Thank you."

"Same to you, Severus," Harry whispered back. He was surprised to find himself crying softly, and even more stunned to realise that Severus was too. The arms that held him trembled ever so slightly, but the man made no sound. But no-one cried silently. Not real crying.

"Severus? You don't have to hide from me. I know it's not the Study, but you don't have to worry about people seeing weakness. You can cry properly. I'm here." And crying too, as hard. It'd been so long since he'd felt safe enough to actually let tears fall, and even longer since he'd had someone to comfort him, to be there and hold him. He wondered how long Severus had waited. Years. Too long. So here, Harry could give a little back for what his friend had given him. Even if it was just a hug.

Severus' arms tightened around him as the man hid his face in his hair and sobbed, once, softly. The tiny sound was like a dam breaking, on walls that had been held tight for who knew how long, and Severus cried. Real tears. Harry, sitting in his lap, rocked him, snuffling himself. They stayed like that for a long time.

Finally, Severus pulled back a bit, calm again, and looked at Harry. His eyes were red and tired, but for some reason he looked lighter. The lines around his black eyes seemed less pronounced, his face less harsh. He smiled a watery smile, and lifted a hand to Harry's face. Harry blinked as Severus' thumb smoothed across his cheeks, wiping away the tears that lingered there. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand to do the same for the other man.

"Not often you get to see your Professor cry, huh?" Severus murmured.

"Not often I get to do it myself," Harry smiled. "Guess we both got something off our chests. Feels good, huh?"

"Hmm. It's supposedly very female to cry. Not something real men are supposed to do. It's not done for a man to let his emotions run loose."

"Well, bugger that! I'll cry if I damn well want, and so will you! While it's safe, anyway. While we're here. What they don't know won't hurt them!" Harry grinned.

"Well said, Mr Potter. Well said. But perhaps you and I should return now to our respective roles. It's time to step back into the play, and say our lines again. Though it's probably a tragedy, we'll play our parts nonetheless. Because no-one else wants to play the martyr and the spy. It's up to us. As usual."

"Yeah. But at least the actors can now get a break every so often. At least we know we're acting, and who's really playing the part. That means a lot, Severus. For me, anyway."

"And for me, Harry," Severus replied. "And for me."

Well, people? How was this chapter? I gotta go to bed now, so leave a review for me to find in the morning. They make me happy, and it's nice to be happy in the morning. Thanks again, all you happy people you!


	5. Chapter 5

I shouldn't be writting this now, but tomorrow's exam is fairly okay, and if I study any more my head will die and drop slowly off my shoulders to lie in a sloppy puddle at my feet. Sorry for the imagery there. I _hate_ exams! Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 5: Regularity

Harry shouldn't have been, but still he found himself surprised how easily he slipped back into his old role, playing his part with all the enthusiasm his recent melancholy had leeched from him. Ron and Hermione noticed the change first, being closest to him. They noticed how much easier it was for him to be with them again, without the lacklusture responses of the last few weeks. It was easier to laugh with them, to remember that they were his friends, and that the friendship had never been about his role as saviour, and all about three people who enjoyed being close to each other. It was easier to look on their budding romance, and feel happy for them. Really happy. Not the dutiful pleasure that had been all he'd been capable of not two days past, but proper respect and joy for their obvious love. It felt good.

It was strange how many things felt good to him. Nothing really had changed. The same things that had driven him to create an emotionless facade to shield himself were still present. He still had to save the world. He still had to do it with only Ron and Hermione and whatever naive, idealistic, brave, inexperienced fools chose to throw their lot in with him. Them, and Severus.

_That_ had changed. Not in public. In class, the Potions Master was still as snarky, cruel, and vindictive as ever. He still tossed about detentions as if they were going out of style, and Gryffindors were still his prefered victims. Homework was still horrendous, and potions were as much a mystery to Harry as they ever were. The school still looked on their rivalry with smug pride, or quiet censure, or outraged fury, depending on where the viewer in question's loyalties lay. Not even Ron or Hermione knew there was something more now.

Something more. Something strange and tentative, and foreign territory for both of them. It was too distant for love, and too intense for friendship. It was like ... a vulcanised version of respect, a feeling of ... brotherhood, maybe, between the only two people who knew what it was like to be the other. It was nothing Harry knew, or had experience of, but it was something instinctual. Maybe it was what werewolves felt in packs. Family, clan, partnership. It felt good.

They had a routine going, now. One that revolved around the Study. Their haven. And their armoury. There was more knowledge stored there than Harry'd ever seen, or thought to look for. There was the school library, of course, but he didn't have Hermione's drive for research. But in Ravenclaw's study, something changed. It was a place _designed_ for research, and anyway, Severus was there. Severus studying was something to see. He put _Hermione_ to shame.

Harry was watching him now. He should have been reading. He'd found a simple, clear text outlining the use of wandless magic in combat situations that he was sure would be useful. But there was something utterly absorbing about the other man's method. He started with some undefinable concept in his mind, a theory come up with Merlin knew how, and from what. He looked first for similar ideas, likely partial methods. It looked like this one was charm based, but it could have easily been potions, or occlumency, or electronics, or muggle cooking. The range of subjects Harry had seen him touch off was phenomenal. So was the volume of notes he'd make. Reams of them, linked by no logical system Harry could see. He'd peaked. Some of them were in some sort of code, that looked like waves, or maths formulae, or Hermione's arithmancy constructs. It was incomprehensible. A couple of times, Harry'd gotten to watch him start practical experiments. He hummed. That was what struck Harry. Severus hummed as he worked. It was ridiculous.

"You know, Harry, actually _reading_ the book does help with learning. First step towards study. An _important_ step," Severus smirked, chin propped in his hand over his notes as he stared at Harry in amusement. Harry blushed, realising he'd been staring for the past ten minutes. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I just," stop to blush again, "I like watching you work." Severus blinked.

"Beg pardon?"

"It's just ... I thought Hermione could study. I mean, she thinks 'Hogwarts - A history' is _light_ reading. But you, you seem to _devour_ knowledge, and then twist it and improve it to make it do what you want it to. Your notes, they're like some kind of ancient scrawl, combined with futuristic symbols. It's like what I imagine watching the man who invented wolfsbane work. It's ... cool."

Severus simply stared at him for a long moment, a strange smile on his face. After a minute Harry began to get uncomfortable. "What? What's wrong?"

"Fascinating," Severus murmured.

"What? Tell me! What'd I do?"

"Fascinating, how you look at study. It's not some eldritch process, you know. It's not an incomprehensible idea that only people like Ms Granger and myself can grasp. Anyone with sufficient motivation can learn. I'd call survival sufficient motivation, wouldn't you? If you want to live, you learn. End of story. You'll manage, once you realise that. And, incidentally, you are watching the man who invented wolfsbane work. Small world, hmm?"

Harry stared. "You ... invented wolfsbane? Really?"

"What? Don't think I could have?"

"No! No, not that. But ... why? Why would you _want_ to help werewolves?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I wanted to help _them_? Wouldn't it make sense, with such a risk in the school, not to mention among Voldemort's ranks, to make sure that if they kill me, they _meant_ to? I don't know about you, but the thought of dying because some morphed idiot lost control rankles. When I die, I'd rather knowing it wasn't some mistake, or some idiot _prank_! That's all."

Harry stayed silent for a moment, watching the other man calm his breathing. Put that way, he could see how much what his godfather had done would have hurt Severus. But if it had been him, he wouldn't have put his effort and genius into making something to make life _better_ for the werewolf. He'd have gone like Umbridge, hating them and trying to destroy them. He didn't think he could have spent so much effort on something that would make his enemy happy. But it made sense, to want to die for something worthwhile. Something with some semblance of meaning.

"Guess that makes sense," he murmured. "Guess I see how you'd want to die properly. I mean, so do I. I want to die knowing it was because I did something right, that pissed off my enemies. I want to die knowing that Voldemort is on his merry way to hell ahead of me, and screaming my name the whole way. That's how I want to die."

Severus smiled sadly. "Read your book, Harry. Learn how to learn. When time comes, we'll walk that merry path together. I'll wait for you, on the road to hell, if you'd like. If only to point out the correct path away."

"Thanks, Severus. But I'll probably be the one waiting for you. And if you're going to hell, I am too. I'm your mirror, remember? We'll wander down together, and maybe rearrange things a bit. I can't imagine you leaving things as shoddy as they undoubtedly are in the afterlife. You're too much of a perfectionist."

Severus laughed quietly. "Well and so, Gryffindor. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, see if you and that book might become better aquainted. It looks a useful volume."

"Yeah, okay," Harry murmured.

They slipped back into their routine without a murmur of disturbance, and when midnight came, put back their books and notes and slipped away to play their parts again. There was comfort in the regularity.

And in the friendship.

Well? Gotta go to bed now. I still have that exam tomorrow. Drop a review, cheer me up before I go? Thanks. I love you all!


	6. Chapter 6

Okay. I've started a kind of rotation thing with my ongoings, so hopefully updates will be a bit more regular. Hopefully. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, here's the next chpt of If You Offered. A new factor to their dynamic appears this chapter. So. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Promises

Harry stared down into his cauldron in confusion. This was not exactly a rare occurence, but this time was different. This time, he wasn't desperately trying to figure out what he'd done wrong before the thing exploded. No. This time, he was trying to figure out how the hell he'd gotten it _right_. Not just right. Perfect. He was standing there, in Potions, looking down at a cauldron containing a perfect potion that _he'd_ made, on his own, with no help. Merciful Merlin!

"Well, and how is our resident celebrity doing today? Mr Potter?" Severus' sneering voice sounded over him, and he glanced up, startled. The black eyes appraised him, locking gazes for a strained moment, then wandered down to stare in fascination and not a little wonder at the cool blue liquid swirling sedately in his cauldron's depths. The man looked back up at him, and for a moment, the barest of seconds, Harry saw pride in that shuttered gaze, before his friend's classroom persona kicked back in and swallowed it.

"Well. Will wonders ever cease! Mr Potter, wonderboy of Gryffindor, has actually managed to keep his mind off Quidditch long enough to brew a passable potion. Merlin, I must mark this down! 'Day Harry Potter paid attention to class.' Truly a once in a lifetime event!"

Harry let his Professor's sarcastic comments flow by him, barely noticing. He didn't even respond to Ron's growled reassurance. "Greasy git! You get sneered at for doing it wrong, and then he goes and gives you the same for getting it right! Don't worry, mate. It his bloody problem!" It didn't matter to Harry. Professor Snape didn't matter to Harry. All he could focus on was the fact that he'd seen, however briefly, pride in him in Severus' eyes. Severus was proud of him. Whatever Professor Snape had to say was irrelevant. He'd seen. He knew. Severus was proud of him.

"Mr Potter? I'm well aware that this is as stunning an event for you as it is for me, but it would be a shame to ruin it by _daydreaming_ when I'm speaking to you! Mr Potter? Do you hea-" The sudden hitch in the tirade brought Harry's head up. He stared at his Professor in consternation, wondering what was wrong. The man's mouth was thinned to a firm, straight line, his face white and confused. Harry frowned.

"Sir?" A voice on the other side of the room gasped. Draco Malfoy raised an unsteady hand and pointed to his teacher's face, brushing the corner of his own lips on the way back down. Severus frowned, and raised his own hand, brushing at his face. Lifting it up, he stared at the liquid now staining his fingers. Blood.

Harry gasped, and lurched forward out of his seat, barely a millisecond ahead of Malfoy. Simultaneously, they moved towards Severus, ignoring each other and everyone else in sudden panicked concern. Concern well-warranted, as they found when Severus bent forward suddenly, cheeks swelling as his mouth opened and gushed blood onto the floor. The red liquid splashed outward, luridly decorating the bottoms of the nearest desks in spattered relief. Someone screamed, a girl, then all out panic broke out. Harry couldn't have cared less. He ran forward and caught Severus around the waist to support him. His hands bumped into Malfoy's, and he glanced up into the blonde boy's wide eyes, recognising real concern. They stared at each other, measuring. Then Malfoy nodded slightly.

Severus heaved again, more blood splashing out. Hermione, levelheaded as usual, sent Ron running for Madame Pomfrey, and Neville for the nearest teacher. Harry shot her a grateful look, then turned back to the man sagging against his arms. Strangely, for all that he was coughing up enough blood to fill a slaughterhouse, Severus didn't seem unduely concerned. His expression, what Harry could see of it between heaves, was more annoyed than scared or hurt. Struggling for breath, he was trying to speak.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" Harry looked up at the sound of McGonagal's voice. "Clear the way, Ms Bones. Now someone tell me what is happening ... Merlin! _Severus?_" The sturdy woman shoved a hysterical Slytherin to one side and raced up to them. "Severus! Hold on! Someone get Poppy! Oh, they've gone? Good. Severus? Severus, are you alright?"

Severus growled through the blood. Harry, arms wrapped around him, was startled to _feel_ the vibrations in the man's chest as he gestured in annoyance at the blackboard. Harry, along with everyone not screaming or running around like a headless chicken, looked at it.

The chalk that he used to write up potion's enstructions from time to time moved now for a different reason. Rapidly, it scribed lines tinged with Severus' distinctive sarcastic annoyance.

_If anyone would like to pay attention to the bleeding man, would they kindly look this way. Thank you. Sooo grateful. Now, if everyone would CALM DOWN, we might get somewhere. Minerva, would you kindly shut these brats up for a moment?_

McGonagal blinked once in consternation, then recovered with admirable poise. "Severus, you should know better than to insult the students."

_I did no such thing. Look and see._ And the lines had indeed changed, reading now as a polite request for some quiet. _However, even if I had, I think I've rather more pressing concerns, don't you? Now hush them and pay attention. This isn't blood._

"What?" Harry spluttered. "It looks a lot like blood from where I'm standing!"

_Of course it does, Mr Potter. It's designed to. In fact, it's a rather elegant simulation concocted by two of our mutual aquaintances. I'm not bleeding. I'm just being rather spectacularly sick. At a guess I'd say it simulates the last thing I've tasted. I shall have to remember in future not to bite my cheek in frustration at my students' idiocies. I can see it has drastic results. _

"Indeed. One of Messers Weasley's better efforts, I'd say." Madame Pomfrey bustled into the room, frowning in disapproval. "It usually takes maybe an hour for the vomiting to clear up. I'm afraid your stomach's going to be in upheaval for the next while, Severus. Odd, though. I know with that shop of theirs thriving that quite a number of their products are in circulation here, but you're usually more careful with your food. Still. Nothing for it. You'd better stay in your quarters for a while, until you tide this over."

Severus sighed. _As the healer commands._ He bent over again as the next wave hit.

"Perhaps someone should help you over there, Severus?" McGonagal asked, something suspiciously like a smile flickering over her face now that she was sure her colleague wasn't in imminent danger of expiring. Harry jumped at the offer.

"I'll do it!" Another voice cried out simultaneously with his, and he swung to stare at Malfoy. Draco glared right back, holding onto Severus' waist with as much possessive tenacity as Harry. Their glares evolved, Harry's getting heated, while Malfoy could have frozen the lake with his. How long they might have continued was anyone's guess, but a raw rasping interupted them. Severus was laughing.

_Ah, me. To have such titans fighting over me. Such entertainment. But I should like to get to my quarters before the house elves become required to resurface my lab floor. And as I cannot pass up a chance to have the great Harry Potter wait on me, he'll come. And Draco too, to make sure he doesn't try to prank me into the next world while we're at it. Not that he would, eh, Minerva? Gryffindors are so noble, after all._ He smirked at her blush, the expression only partially ruined by the simulation blood dripping from his chin. Another heave shuddered through him, and Harry and Draco, after another glare for good measure, shouldered his weight between them.

They must have looked a sight, Harry reflected as they reeled drunkenly down the corridor, the two of them holding up a gasping man splashing what looked like blood in a trail all down the passage. Malfoy's longer hair got in the way sometimes, and was red at the ends by the time they reached the door to Severus' rooms. Harry himself, glasses askew, the front of his robes glistening with collateral damage, didn't look so hot himself. But Severus had to take the cake for looking out of sorts. And Harry was going to find out why.

They got him inside, after a minute's confusion where both he and Malfoy uttered the password at the same time, each garbling it in shock, and spending the next thirty seconds stopping and starting before Malfoy ceded control and let Harry get them inside. They sat Severus down on the side of the bath, figuring the bathroom was the more sensible option right then.

Severus slid down to rest kneeling on the floor, head twisted slightly so the bath would catch the worst of the spew, sliding his eyes closed exhaustedly. Harry looked at Draco, and saw the same suspicion in his eyes as Harry himself harboured. There was something more wrong here than a Weasley Special.

"You know," Draco started conversationally. "I was under the impression that the Terrible Twins' barf sweets made one throw up approximately three times as much simulated ... whatever ... as the victim in question had ingested real. Even a third of what you've throw up so far is far more blood than you'd swallow after a bitten cheek, Sev. Any thoughts?"

Severus cracked open an eye wearily. The vomiting had died down enough by now that he could speak relatively uninterupted. "Several, as it happens, Draco. Firstly that you are far too clever for your own good. You and Mr Potter bo-" He stopped to cough into the bath. "You and Mr Potter both," he finished. "And don't call me Sev. I hate that."

"Would you prefer 'Uncle Sevvie', then?" Draco asked bitingly. Harry snorted, unable to contain himself, and recieved twin glares for his trouble. He pulled himself together.

"Seriously, though. Draco's right, Severus," he stated, somewhat reluctantly. "Where'd all the blood come from? You gave me a heart attack back there! Do you know what you looked like? One minute you're giving out to me, the next you're keeled over flooding the classroom with blood! What the hell happened that you'd that much blood in your mouth? What did it look like for real? You dying?" His voice had risen drastically during the speech, but he couldn't help it. He'd known that one day the other man would go out and not come back, but the knowledge was something different to the visceral reaction to actually _seeing_ it happen in front of him. He didn't want to watch Severus die, even in simulation!

Severus sighed. "Harry, you know full well what I sometimes have to do. Draco too. You know that sometimes he's not happy, for whatever reason. As yet, I'm far too valuable to kill off hand. But you, Draco, aren't. And everyone knows he wants you dead, Harry. The pair of you might want to be a bit more careful about who you speak in front of, hmmm?"

Harry stared at him, then looked at Draco in sudden realisation. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. He'd revealed a friendship with Severus Snape, Death Eater and spy, in front of Draco, son of Voldemort's right hand man. He'd put them both in terrible danger without even thinking. Shit!

Draco looked as unhappy. Severus looked between them for a moment, smiling sadly. Then he shook his head. "Draco. Harry. Look at me. Look. It's alright. Well, not exactly alright, but better than you both think. Harry, Draco has been struggling against his father's influence for a long time. Whatever about you, I trust that he won't betray me." He laid a gentle hand on the blonde's shoulder. "I trust you with my life, Draco. Don't forget that. And I also trust Harry. He won't harm you for bearing the Mark. He may hex you into next week over a petty difference in the corridors, but he won't put you in danger from your father or Dumbledore. Believe me. I know."

He clutched his stomach again, leaning over the bath to expell more of the blood. Draco and Harry looked at each other over his bent head, uncertain and wary. Draco's eyes flickered once more to Severus, then he jerked his head at the bathroom door. Harry stood. "Severus? Will you be alright for a minute? Draco and I should talk. We'll be back soon, I promise." The heaving man waved a red-stained hand at them impatiently, gesturing them outside.

Draco pulled the door closed behind them, and stood gazing at Harry for a long moment. "Well," he began.

"Well," Harry echoed softly.

"So you're the one," Draco murmured. Harry tilted his head in confusion. "You're the one he's been talking to recently," the blonde clarified. "I know he's been talking to someone. He's seemed so much ... lighter ... recently. So much more at ease, as if he's only carrying half the world on his shoulders, instead of all of it. It's you, then."

Harry shrugged. "We ... reached an understanding. We sorta ... try to help each other. He helped me. He stopped me doing ... something very foolish. I wanted to help him too. He seemed to need it. I guess he's always needed something, but I only saw it then. I ... want us to survive, if possible. Or at least die doing something worthwhile. He ... He's my friend." _And something more_, a voice whispered inside him, but he couldn't dwell on it. Draco measured him up, then nodded slightly.

"At least you care, then," he murmured. "That's good to know. Maybe you can really help him. He doesn't trust me enough to let me try, but he might you."

Harry frowned. "He said he trusted you."

"And he does," Draco agreed. "He trusts me with _his_ life. You've seen exactly how much that particular commodity is worth to him. He trusts me with his life, but not with mine. He would never allow me to do anything to jeapordise my position with my father and his master. Helping him with what he has to do would be something like that. He won't let me close enough to get hurt if he falls. He won't let me help him. But he seems to have more trust in you."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. Draco stepped forwards so they were nose to nose.

"You listen to me, Potter. He trusts you. I can see it. You've helped him so far, more than anyone else has been able to. I don't know what you did to win his trust, but you'd better do everything in your power to keep it. You hear me? He's let you close. He's let you help. He's placed more trust in you than maybe he can afford to. _So you'd better not lose it_! You'd better not do anything to betray that, or harm him. Or I _will_ destroy you. You have my word on that."

Harry stared. Draco was deadly serious. Severus may not have let him close, but it was obvious they cared for each other. Draco would hurt him if he betrayed Severus. Harry felt absurdly comforted by that. Someone else cared.

"I promise, Draco. I'll do everything in my power to be worthy of his trust, to keep him alive and safe. You have _my _word on it."

Draco help his gaze a moment longer, weighing the strength of his promise. Then the other boy nodded, once, and turned to leave.

"Take care of him then, Potter. Find out how he was hurt, if you can. I'll deal with your next class for you." He strode out, stopping at the door, back still turned. "And Potter? You'd better be worthy. Because for him, there's no-one else."

Harry stared after him, throat suddenly full. He couldn't believe he was going to cry. Not now, when Severus was coughing his guts up in the next room. But he couldn't help it. Severus was really his, now. His responsibility. Truly.

"He's right, you know, Harry." The soft voice pulled Harry's distraught gaze. Severus leaned heavily on the doorframe, looking sadly at him, blood still trickling slowly from one corner of his mouth. "There's no-one else. There never was. Hmpf. Lucky us, eh? Guess we're stuck with each other. Harry Potter and the greasy git. What a world."

Harry moved to him, wrapped his arms around him, ignoring the red stains on both their robes. He hugged Severus desperately. "I will be worthy, you know," he whispered softly. "I promise."

"Ah Harry," Severus murmured brokenly, hugging him back. "It's me that's not worthy. But I'll get there. We'll get there. I promise. Who knows. We might even survive each other, if not the war. In a world that allows us to have this, who knows? But we'll try. Heaven help us, we'll try. I only hope it's enough."

"It will be," Harry vowed. If he had to take on the whole world, he'd find a way to make it enough. He had to, he realised. Because he loved this man too much to lose him. In barely a week, they'd gone from loathing, to respect, to tentative friendship, and now, for Harry anyway, to love. He couldn't tell Severus that. He'd nothing to offer, since everything he was was caught up in this stupid war. But he'd do everything in his power to keep Severus alive. That much, he could do. And would.

He promised.

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Well? Yes, this is now confirmed Snarry. I know for some people that will spoil it, and I'm sorry, but that's the way the story goes. R&R? And, by the by? I've figured out where this is in the timeline. It's an alternate version of Harry's 6th year, and elements of HBP will be coming in. Including _the_ element. Just thought I'd tell ye. Night.


End file.
